It’s around here somewhere.

After more than my fair share of days off filled with food, libations, friends, sleepless nights, living room dance parties;

-and blindingly excruciating mornings because of most of those things, said ‘groove’ might be dead on arrival.

Good morning, and welcome to the year’s first proper installment of whatever it is we do here day after day, week after week, month after month and year after mind numbing year.

Firstly, I do hope that we all had sufficently restful holiday breaks.

For my part I was generally scared to be on the road aboard a bicycle as it seemed as though everyone who was, got run over and killed.

I certainly don’t mean to come across as being flippant regarding these obviously preventable and gut-wrenching tragedies, but it’s my nature to joke when faced with things of an uncomfortable nature.

Fortunately however, only a few million more of us need to be killed before it’s recognized by the powers that be as an issue.

So you know, at least we’ve go that going for us.

Truth be told, a lion’s share of physical activity in my camp revolved around twelve ounce curls and riding a wooden board with four wheels attached, and let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen- If I thought I was crippled then, I had no idea what was in store.

My right achilles tendon is on fire, and every muscle from my ankles to my ass is alight with the sensation of having been thrown down a thousand flights of stairs.

More than ever before, I’m faced with the fact that I’m no longer a young man in bright red Limpies;

-Whatever year those were appropriate to wear, which I’ve been notified by Mary, was never.

And speaking of Mary, she was the most vocal opponent of my simi-recently grown moustache;

Photo by the lovely and talented Sacha Vanegas.
She took every opportunity to hurt its feelings, so in response, I shaved it off, put it in an envelope, and sent it to her;

I’m pretty sure she’s psyched.

And this is how wars begin.

And while we’re on the topic of Seattle, kinda, Sally checked in with news regarding Hodala’s advancements in sideline shenanigans;

“Dildo Tuesday should be a thing.

Sally”

It’s like we’re watching the miracle of evolution develop in real time.

Not relating to any of those nonsenses at all, Paul made contact with yet another event notification from his Atomic Cycles Army;

“Hello Stevil,

Please fluff my dust if you’re willing. Peace and bearing grease and all that

Paul”

Are you in reasonable proximity to Paul’s antics?

Do you have a worthy coaster brake equipped bike?

And lastly, do you think you’re worthy of such an event?



Me thinks the photos probably don’t really do it justice.

If so, you know where to be and what you need to do.

I feel slightly inclined to make mention that yesterday afternoon I felt a slight burst of inspiration and created what I called the ‘Don’t Get Called Back For Jury Duty’ pro kit;

I posted it in some of my other online venues because I was quite proud of myself, and I will here too for the same reason.

Continuing on, and being that this here is a bikecycle and bikecycle related things action sports blog® that is curated and composed by this guy;

-I feel the need back-pedal (no pun intended) on my initial statement about being scared to ride my bike, and post up a couple images of that particular activity, in which I’ve engaged recently with these two human beings;


That there is Jeff and Fred, and if I had to pick to people who weren’t lawyers to represent me in a murder trial, it would most likely be them.

Because at the end of the day, and when all of the cosmic punishment (self inflicted or not) gets pushed to the side, spending the day dillydallying with your homies is the quickest and possibly most efficient way to get one’s groove back.